


My Little Runaway

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bodyguard AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow is a bit of a lovesick puppy, Made For Each Other, Modern Westeros, One Shot, Sansa is a bit of a brat, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: “I hate you!” Sansa hissed, yanking the car door shut before he could close it for her.“Honestly, the feeling is mutual at the moment,” Jon huffed to the empty street outside the nightclub where he’d found Ned Stark’s wayward daughter tonight.Sansa Stark had never been a wayward daughter before though…not until Jon came along. He wondered if she just enjoyed tormenting him as he attempted to do his job. And torment him she did with her long legs and occasional sweet smiles and feisty temper.  But tonight, Jon would learn what was at the root of his lovely charge's attempts to shirk her good girl persona.





	My Little Runaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annarosym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annarosym/gifts), [asongforjonsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/gifts), [Castalya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalya/gifts), [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts), [Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies/gifts).



> First off, I had planned to write a Bodyguard AU for the 31 days of Jonsa shipping on Tumblr but-
> 
> 1) I suck at deadlines and missed that day but I'll share it here at least.  
> 2) I actually started another, more-serious story which it became clear would become another WIP which is the last damn thing I need right now. So I shelved that for another day and started this which kittykatknits rudely said could easily become it's own WIP. So RUDE! I don't need anymore WIPs! It's gotta be a one-shot for my sanity!  
> 3) I am a sucker for Jon as Sansa's bodyguard in fic so I believe from the bottom of my heart there can never be enough Jonsa Bodyguard fic. If you've written a Jonsa bodyguard fic and I've not read it, tell me! I want to read it. And while we're at it...Here! Have another!
> 
> Second, I'm gifting this to some lovely Jonsa fans/cheerleaders who are always so supportive, not only of me but plenty of other Jonsa writers, too! There are lots of you beauties out there in this fandom and I'll embarrass more of you with gift fics in the future when I can but I wanted to call out these sweethearts today. Thanks for everything! 
> 
> Finally, I heard Del Shannon's classic "Runaway" the other afternoon and decided to go with that for the title.

 

“I hate you!” Sansa hissed, yanking the car door shut before he could close it for her.

“Honestly, the feeling is mutual at the moment,” Jon huffed to the empty street outside the nightclub where he’d found Ned Stark’s wayward daughter tonight.

Last week, it had been a disreputable pub. Two weeks before that, a raucous house party where the cops had wound up being called just as Jon swooped in to extract her. Last month, she’d headed to the cinema alone. He supposed even spoiled, trouble-making socialites needed a normal outing once in a while.

And he’d lost track of the times he’d caught her before she managed to leave the estate.

Sansa Stark had never been a wayward daughter before though…not until Jon came along. He wondered if she just enjoyed tormenting him as he attempted to do his job.

She should’ve been a dream job as protection details went. When Jon Snow had been informed he’d be guarding one of Prime Minister Stark’s two daughters, he prayed it would be Sansa because everyone knew what a hellion Arya could be.

Sansa was the perfect daughter, the one that appeared in the society pages at balls and charity events, looking radiant in her designer gowns and doing good deeds. Arya was the one that made headlines…not the good kind.

But ever since Sansa had returned from her extended stay in Kings Landing, she’d been different he’d been told. Of course, Jon hadn’t been assigned to her until afterwards but for three months he’d been her bodyguard. And for three months, she’d sorely tried his patience.

So, here they were at 2AM on a week night. The thumping techo-pop music was still echoing in his ears while the image of some slimy git with his hands all over Sansa on the dance floor as she downed another neon-colored cocktail was still etched into his mind’s eye.

He exhaled slowly and lit a cigarette, hoping to calm the pounding in his blood. He needed a minute…or ten…to compose himself.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she’d screamed at him when they got outside.

He still couldn’t believe it either. He’d literally hefted her over his shoulder and carried her from the place a few minutes ago when he’d told her it was time to leave and she’d dared him to make her.

“Make me,” she’d said with a that haughty little look he knew so well now, the one she could give at the drop of a hat when she was irritated. Why did that look make him want to smear her crushed rose lipstick as he kissed her till she was dizzy?

“Make you?! What are you, ten?!” he’d shouted over the blaring music.

She’d stuck her tongue out at him and that had been that. He’d been tempted to smack her firm ass once she was flailing in his arms and cursing him up one side and down the other but he restrained himself. Well, if one considered throwing her over his shoulder without beating his chest and bellowing constraining himself.

No one had stopped him from carrying her bodily out of the club. The bouncers had seemed more amused than anything. That was concerning. He had her best interests at heart. What if he’d been some other guy though? Would they’ve just smirked and nodded at him then too?

She had every right to be pissed about his caveman antics but he’d had it up to here with her sneaking out to party. It wasn’t that he wished to deny her a social life. She was twenty-one. She could party if she wanted. But she couldn’t run away from her security detail like she was just any other girl. There were rules in place for a reason. They’d been over this…repeatedly.

That was one problem. Sansa liked to sneak off and run away, grabbing the attention of the paparazzi when she did and often putting herself in situations that weren’t ideal.

 _‘And I wonder…where she will stay…my little runaway,’_ he hummed under his breath as he took another drag.

But that wasn’t the only problem. The other one was Jon himself.

He hated seeing her at these clubs or wherever when he would catch her dancing and drinking with arseholes in flashy suits. Not because of the potential dangers to any young woman, let alone the PM’s daughter. He was already very mindful of the potential dangers. No, it was because deep down Jon knew he wanted to be the one to take her dancing and fetch her drinks and just spend time with her. But that could never be.

He sighed and stubbed out his cigarette before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Sansa was blindly staring at the dash of his car, fuming silently. Her lips were pursed and her arms were folded across her sparkly, little purple minidress that showed just how long and luscious those legs of hers were. He didn’t like that dress one bit…not on her anyway.

_Would you prefer it off her?_

_Gods, don’t go there._

In the three months since he’d been assigned to Sansa, Jon would hate to confess how many times he’d had less than altruistic thoughts when it came to his beautiful charge. Sometimes, he thought he might like to wring that long, white neck…not that he ever would. But more often than not, he dreamed of sucking on it while his hands were busy carding through that shiny red hair…or maybe busy elsewhere.

He started to put the key in the ignition and drive them home. He had been expecting her to sneak out tonight when she’d claimed she was turning in early. It never ceased to wound him when she managed it though.

“It’s not you, Jon. She wasn’t like this before,” her brother Bran had confided in him privately once after he’d walked in on a particularly nasty row between them. “She never acted out until after Kings Landing.”

Well, she acted out now. Could he call it that? She wasn’t a kid exactly. She was only three years younger than him. But he’d been on his own since he was eighteen and served in the Watch. She was still a girl compared to how he’d behaved at twenty-one. Sometimes, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, he felt like an old man. Maybe that was part of why he was drawn to Sansa despite the aggravation she caused him. There was something about Sansa; a spark that she’d ignite when they’d bicker and a longing that she awoke when she spoke to him sweetly. She reminded Jon he was still very much alive.

But what had changed with Sansa? Why was she determined to give her younger sister some competition in the gossip rags? Jon wondered again why this one-time good girl was so determined to get into trouble now.

The Starks were known throughout the North as one would expect. Sansa was the daughter of an important man and a beautiful young woman who rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous of Westeros. While she was down South, she’d been photographed with the crown prince a good deal. Their pending engagement had been all the talk a few months ago though it’d not been openly acknowledged yet. He couldn’t imagine the royal family liking the sort of press Sansa was garnering now.

But three months earlier, Sansa Stark had come back home unexpectedly and asked her father to dismiss her old bodyguard. Why? And was she planning to go South again? What would that mean for him if she did? Would he be allowed to come, too? Because, sad as it was, he hated the thoughts of being left behind. By her side was where he wanted to be.

He looked over at the girl sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him and wished to know more.

“I’m sorry, alright?” he said at last. She made a sound that reminded him of a growl and he had to fight the urge to start grinning. “Why’d you sneak out tonight?” he asked gruffly as he started the engine.

“To get away from you,” she said sourly.

He chuckled at her peevish tone. She was always trying to get under his skin like that. She got under his skin alright…just not the way she intended. Sometimes, he thought maybe he got under her skin a bit, too.

It was chilly out tonight. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her. Her expression softened as she draped it around her shoulders while biting her lip. She gazed at him, piercing him with those crystal clear blue eyes before he could put the car in drive.

“Not _you_ really,” she said in a different tone, the apologetic one she’d often adopt at times like this. “I’m just…never mind.”

“Just what?”

“I’m not perfect, Jon,” she sighed.

“No shit,” he laughed. She scowled at him. “Care to tell me who is?” he prompted next to take the sting out of his words.

“Not me.”

“Me, either.” What exactly was the point here? He was certain he was missing something. “Does someone expect you to be perfect?”

He was partly joking. Ned and Catelyn Stark were busy people but they didn’t strike Jon as anything less than loving towards their kids. They handled Arya and Rickon’s wild ways with patience and acceptance. He was sure they weren’t anything other than just concerned over Sansa’s behavior of late.

She nodded slowly then quickly looked away but not before he could see the flash of some buried hurt in her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, catching her chin and making her face him again. There were tears sparkling in her eyes now. “Sansa, what’s all this?”

She wasn’t one to cry easily…not in front of others anyway. He’d heard her once in her bedroom crying when he’d first started. He’d knocked on her door to check on her. Her face had been tear-streaked when she’d answered at last but she’d groaned and told him it was just her monthlies and to leave her alone. He’d backed out of the room like she was aiming a loaded weapon at him. It had made her laugh at least.

She was crying now though; the soft, helpless cry of something beautiful, delicate and precious that had been unexpectedly injured by the cruelties of this world. It made his heart twist painfully.

“I just thought that maybe they’d change their minds if I wasn’t what they expected me to be,” she hiccupped as he handed her a handkerchief.

“Who?” he asked though he already had his suspicions.

“The Queen and Joffrey,” she answered after blowing her nose.

Oh, so this wasn’t just a teenage rebellion coming a few years too late. This was a young woman hoping to avoid the unavoidable, a royal engagement.

“Sansa…is the prince unkind to you?”

She gave a very brief nod as a tear finally escaped to slide down her cheek. His hand darted out without a thought as he collected it with his index finger.

“You can’t say anything,” she whispered as he drew his finger to his mouth and tasted the salt of her tear. She watched him do so…and trembled. “The press conference is being held in a few days. I’m trapped,” she said, a touch of hysteria in her tone.

Jon clenched his fists at his sides to keep from punching the steering wheel. _I’m trapped…so I run away and try to be someone they won’t want_ , he thought dismally.

“Why was your old bodyguard dismissed?”

She bowed her head and looked at the dash again. “Sometimes, Joffrey loses his temper. Never in public. He’s good at putting on that front, the perfect prince,” she said bitterly. “I was a stupid little girl that bought it like everyone else. But sometimes, he’d get angry…with me. My old bodyguard…he just stood there and never said a word.”

“He was charged to protect you,” Jon snarled, furious at the prince and furious at her former guardian.

“He was…but not from him,” she said resignedly.

Jon didn't accept that excuse.  This wasn't the past.  Just because he was a prince, Joffrey shouldn't get away with that.  And Jon would've gladly faced being flayed alive before he let that prick lay one hand on Sansa in anger.

Jon cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him again. “Do your parents know?” He would hate to learn that they did. He’d be extremely disappointed in them both if they knew and they were pushing their daughter to marry him anyway.

She shook her head. “I can’t tell them. Dad’s career would be…”

“He loves you more than he loves his career, Sansa.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He grasped her hand and placed it over his heart. “I know it right here. But your father is a respected man and friends with the king. You not marrying the prince shouldn’t mean the end of his career. And, no one can force you to marry him.” She scoffed but looked like she might start sobbing soon. “Do you want to marry him?” She shook her head and did start sobbing. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, wanting to comfort her with an embrace.

“Don’t,” she said, plucking her hand from his and pulling away. He let her retreat. He was hurt but trying not to be. “Don’t be nice to me,” she said shakily.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

“I don’t deserve it. I’ve been an ass to you,” she said sheepishly.

“No, you’ve not.”

“I’ve been awful, just admit it.”

“You have been _occasionally_ awful,” he allowed.

“I’m sorry, Jon. I don’t mean to be really. You’re…”

“I’m what?” He was dying to know what she thought of him.

“You care. You're a good man.  I know I can trust you. I knew it from the day we met. And you put up with me, gods only know why. You’re sweet to me and…you make me wish for something I can never have.”

He reached for her hand again as his heartrate kicked into overdrive at her words. This time she didn’t withdraw from him. They laced their fingers together and stared at one another.

“Can you forgive me?” she asked.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

She made that face, the one that dared him to challenge her. “Forgive me,” she ordered though her tone was playful.

“Alright, alright. I forgive you,” he chuckled. “But truly…I didn’t know why you were doing the things you did. But, I knew I wanted to keep you safe.”

“You make me feel safe, Jon.  You make me feel lots of things.”

The atmosphere in the car was suddenly heated and Jon was assaulted by the desire to kiss this beautiful young woman and tell her he’d do anything for her. If she didn’t want to marry the prince, no one would force her to. He’d protect her from anyone that tried.

“What else do I make you feel?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“I…” Her eyes darted between his mouth and his eyes. “You make me feel…”

She flushed and he understood. He felt it in the marrow of his bones.

“Do you want to go home tonight…or somewhere else?” he asked. He might lose his job over this. He might be making a tremendous, career-ending mistake. He couldn't say he cared.

“Somewhere else,” she murmured, leaning towards him before she quickly licked her lips. “But all my problems will still be waiting for me tomorrow.”

“What if you left it all behind for a while?  Ran away?  Not much of an engagement announcement when the bride-to-be can’t be found. I think even Joffrey would get the hint then.”

She grinned mischievously at that. “Where will I go?”

“Where will _we_ go?”

She smiled and nodded in agreement.

He moved closer, wetting his lips now. His hands itched to hold her but he would let her make the first move. His heart sang as her small hands came to his shoulders, grasping at his shirt. He let his hands drift to her waist. He could feel her warm breath across his cheek. Her eyes started to close. She leaned in.

“Are you going to try and run away from me again?” he teased just before their lips met.

He felt her lips quirk into a smile when she answered. “No…I’ll run away _with_ you from now on.”

 


End file.
